


Simple blessings

by WendigoBaby



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Married and happy, eternal love, that knowledge that you are loved and you are precious and you are someone's treasure, there is something so comforting about requited love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 23:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10774668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendigoBaby/pseuds/WendigoBaby
Summary: Trials and tribulations only last so far, in the end you get what you prayed your nights away for. Sometimes, it's love that burns brighter than the sun, so bright that it puts all the stars to shame. Sometimes love is loyal and love is something holy and love is everything you wished for on your knees.





	Simple blessings

**Author's Note:**

> i'm honestly so proud of this piece, even though it's not long, i put my heart and soul into it.

The light filtering in through the cracks in the curtains is peach-pink and sunflower-yellow, painting the bedroom with a careful artist’s brush, everything as still as the morning itself. There is a bow resting against a red armchair, there are necklaces gathered in a bowl sparkling and glittering in the shy rays of the new day, there are silk sheets slipping off the bed on one end, like water captured in motion. 

 

It’s quiet, the gentle hum of the city outside a comforting kind of white noise when Magnus wakes. It’s a slow thing, uninterrupted, a muse posing for a portrait that will hang adored in museums, all shadows in the lines of muscle and bone, all light against skin and veins. He sits up, letting the soft fabric slip down his naked chest, skin warm against the crisp air around him. Next comes a yawn, wide-mouthed and unashamedly human while he rubs the leftover dreams from his eyelashes. 

 

He rests a hand over the space where Alec is usually curled up against him, their limbs tangled to the point where two bodies melt into one. It’s empty and cold underneath Magnus’s touch, a clear indicator of time passing, aside from the last phantoms of a kiss pressed into his hair somewhere during his unconsciousness. A glance at his phone screen reveals the hour to be almost half past 5 A.M., too early for either of them to be awake, but yet here they are – one of them strangely missing and the other one craving a cup of coffee sweetened by morning radio news and the smell of breakfast. 

 

Magnus stands up, wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs and his own modesty, then pads out of the bedroom; there’s no point in going back to sleep, when something akin to curiosity is curling in his stomach. Aside from the occasional dire emergency that wakes them both with the shrilling noise of Alec’s phone, they usually start the day together, so this moment feels like nothing more than an outlier.

 

While Magnus used to be more than comfortable with waking up alone, now it makes his mornings feel off-kilter, because he’s been spoiled with love too good to be true and yet, the most present thing – gentle and comfortable and full of truths spoken out loud. There is no point in hiding, when they both want so much, equal in their hunger.

 

Light on his feet, Magnus watches dust particles dance in the air, his fingers lingering over the knots in wooden furniture and dragging over the soft fabric of the couch that has seen so many ends to their dates and will see ten times more until they all fall apart into stardust. 

 

A draft wraps itself around Magnus’s ankles as he comes closer to the balcony door he doesn’t remember leaving ajar last night. He leans with his shoulder on the frame, watching Alec against the sunrise. He’s all broad back with dark runes carved into his skin, his hair messy from the wind playing with it, a roman god of love and war alike against an oil-painted canvas.

 

An unpleasant memory of a party gone so horribly wrong comes into Magnus’s mind uninvited, but is dismissed in a moment’s time, because they are not the people they were then. They wore red-raw wounds like stigmata and pressed careful lips against them in piety until the scars were the only proof of their existence. There was no gracious salvation and there was no fixing the broken, because they are not rotten and do not need redemption. 

 

They are a collection of warm bones and wandering hands and the most careless of laughter. They are a favorite song captured on vinyl, they are a book of poetry about lovers with wildflowers in their hair and wine on their tongues, they are kisses pressed against skin in lieu of a greeting.

 

_They are the sky and they are the sun and they are the smell that comes after rain._

 

Magnus pushes off and comes to stand next to Alec, who stares at him like he’s a witness to something holy, his eyes hazy and drenched in something honey-sweet. There is something so tender in the way he reaches for Magnus’s hand, presses his cold fingertips against the line of sun on the inside of his palm before bringing it to his mouth to kiss like communion. 

 

“I found you.” Magnus speaks steady, a fact, a statement, a prayer to come true. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” 

 

Alec looks away, stares at the sharp lines of skyscrapers that reach for the clouds and Magnus watches him instead – follows the lines of his amaranth mouth and slips down to his chest, all dark hair and a heartbeat pressed against skin. There’s something strange about hunters with wolf’s teeth and hearts full of rosewater.

 

“I’ve realized something.” Alec turns away from the view and swallows, resting his forehead against Magnus’s, eyelashes dark against his cheeks. Magnus breathes for both of them, watches an angel smile. “I am happy. I’ve never been very happy, but now, here, with you, it’s all I am.” 

 

Magnus holds Alec’s face in his hands, rests his thumbs against the corners of a mouth that he puts his mouth against, tastes the future that is lavender and fig quarters fed by hand. _There you are._

 

“Be mine until the sun burns out.”

 

Alec covers Magnus’s palms with his own, their fingers adorned by matching rings in the color of heaven’s glow; his voice is sweet like golden treacle. “I’ve been yours since you held my hand. I will be yours until you want me.”

 

“Forever?”

 

“Longer.”

**Author's Note:**

> All comments and kudos are greatly appreciated <3
> 
> You can find me on tumblr under 'maghnvsbane' and if you want me to write something specific, you can leave a malec prompt in my ask box!


End file.
